The Heat of the Moment (II)

Okie dokie party people. I really did not want to do another post on what-not-to-do during a hook-up sesh, but I must address this issue. And yes, it is indeed an issue. Below is another list of things I would prefer you kept to yourself while we’re getting hot & heavy.

You’re my first black chick. Hmm you’re welcome? I would tell you you’re my first [insert-any-adjective-here] guy, but that’d be a lie. I’m pretty sure I’ve popped all cherries in the last decade. If it’s taken you this long, keep it to yourself. It’s like admitting you’ve never flown First Class. By a certain age, everyone else has. And if you haven’t before, you probably shouldn’t brag about it mid-flight.

You’re the hottest black chick, I’ve ever hooked up with. There are many things wrong with this statement. First of all, never end a sentence in a preposition, that’s elementary grammar people. Secondly, I am not Black. I am Blaxican, get it right. Thirdly, you are not gaining any brownie points by claiming you’ve hooked up with ethnic girls before. This is America, I’d expect nothing less. Lastly, hottest black chick?  WTF is that supposed to mean? That’s kinda like telling someone they’re pretty tall for a midget. Not very PC.

My mom really likes you. Well duh. Everybody loves me… at first. I am a charming piece of ass. I’m not worried if she likes me. My real concern is why the hell are you thinking of your mother when your pants are at your ankles. Please keep all oedipus complexes to yourself, Dr. Freud.

Have you told your mom about me, yet? My mommy dearest and I discuss which celebrity we think will die next and how we can trick my dad into giving my tuition money, even though I already graduated. You’re not my boyfriend. And until that changes, I can’t waste my breath on you.

Am I better than Mike? I’m sure your roommate Mike said great things about me. So naturally you had to see for yourself. But until you mentioned his name, I didn’t even realize you two were roommates. Are you better than him? Well come to think of it… he was pretty amazing. Maybe I should just hop into his bed instead. You can just listen through the walls to see if I’m enjoying myself or not.

Please don’t put me in your blog. Lately, many guys have said this. I am flattered you read my posts. But do you really think I have the time to write about all of my one-night stands? I meannnn there are not enough fake names in the English language to accommodate such a list. Like I’ve said before this blog is about my discarded men. As long as you don’t do something stupid, you’re in the clear.

Not gonna lie, here’s a list of stuff I probably shouldn’t have said:

• We really gotta finish our group project before tomorrow.
• I have herpes. Just kidding! It’s just syphilis.
• Do you think I’m fat?
• Your ex-gf told me you’d do that.
• I might vomit.
• My thighs are totally bigger than yours.

So, we all make mistakes. But when I say weird shit, it’s fun to laugh at myself. When guys say weird shit, it’s fun to laugh at them… on the World Wide Web.